Last Thoughts
by boooooo
Summary: The Giver wonders how and where Jonas is after he left. Oneshot


I was at home bored and depressed so i decided to write a short story on the Giver. I kinda rushed through it so don't expect any thing good. I know I should be doing deep fire but im stuck on it so yea. Enjoy. Or not.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE GIVER

* * *

The Giver paced around his assigned room, pondering one thought. Had Jonas managed to escape from the community? Was he cold or hungry? And where would he spend the night? He sighed. If Jonas did make it, some changes should already have occurred.

Moving stiffly to the polished window, he decided to take another look outside and see if there would be any variation in the everyday scene of the community. He drew the heavy purple velvet curtain and peered out. No. Everything was the same as ever. People were bustling about, doing their daily business.

The Giver stepped away from the windowpane, trying to reason with himself. Stop wishing that Jonas would have made it to the other place he told himself angrily. He felt a pang of regret. The boy wasn't properly trained. He shouldn't have let him go. Any kind of horrible fate might have befallen Jonas. Out of fear for him, The Giver began imagining all kinds of dreadful torture that Jonas might have had to endure. He fell to his knees in despair. Jonas was like the son he never had and now, he's gone.

Suddenly, he heard a scream of agony. It came from the window. Striding purposefully towards the pane of glass, he braced himself for the shock that was to come. He gasped. People were running everywhere in confusion like blind bats. There was a young woman doubled over in pain, clutching her stomach. He allowed a small a grim smile to creep onto his face. This was only the beginning; the worse was yet to come. Some elderly men were emerging from the house of old singing carols while children were fighting. The sight would have been amusing had it not been so serious. The view contrasted and changed randomly. Abruptly, the children weren't combating anymore but shouting and pointing at a rose bush in excitement as if they had never seen one before. He looked at it and wondered why it was causing such uproar; it was just an ordinary bush with red roses on it. Then he realised. The memory of colour must be coming back now.

Everywhere, he saw people stare in surprise at their bodies and realize that their skin colours were different all along. Even the ussualy organized and disciplined committee of elders could be seen looking perplexed and befuddled. A former member of the committee was even jumping around like a frog and rubbing their skin which seemed to have turned bright red in a tiny duration.

Unexpectedly, out of the blue, large groups of the community fell on to the ground twitching like spiders and began setting off a wail of anguish that it seemed to The Giver that the sound would no doubt have been carried to the neighbouring community. That one idea made him think. What would happen to the other communities? Would they still be as cool as a cucumber or would they be in the same state as us. There was no knowing what might happen with memories that had been locked up for so long. As unpredictably as it had started, everyone that had fallen got up and started hugging each other. Now this was the part that he had been looking forward to most. The feeling of love. Family units got together and embraced as if they would never see their loved ones again.

He was now aware of the happiness that was flooding over him. The worse had passed. If the community had been able to undergo the experience, then everything would be alright. Suddenly he felt exhausted. It was as if someone had pricked him with a needle and he was now a flat balloon. Shuffling wearily towards his four poster bed, he realised that his time was up. But to his astonishment, he didn't feel at all depressed or miserable; to the contrary. He actually felt ecstatic. He had fulfilled his goal and could now rest in peace, without worrying about what would happen when he was gone. Laying his head down wearily on the downy pillow, he let his eyelids fall. He smiled as he slept and in the last few seconds of his life, he thought he heard birds chirping. But it might have only been a dream.

* * *

The End


End file.
